<j.v -^^^ \^^y ^^' '^^ ^^Zf^y 0^ 















\~^''' 



'^^ ^<? 











V 



m 










^o 



^<^ ''-l-r- 



^^^^* <^^ "^ 



■~^€A^ ^.c^ 











'^..^^ '^ 



MELODIES OF VERSE 



BY / 

BAYARD TAYLOR 




BOSTON 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street 

®6e Bi&ersile ^xts8, damfirtUse 

1884 



f5v'^ 









Copyright, 1854, 1862, 1864, 187s, 1878, 1879, 

By Bayard Taylor, Ticknor & Fields, and 
Houghton, Osgood & Co. 

Copyright, 1882 and 1884, 
By Marie Taylor. 



A// rights reserved. 



n-^fxio 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 



CONTENTS. 



*— 

MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Improvisations 5 

Assyrian Night-Song 14 

Camadeva 17 

Bedouin Song 19 

The Poet in the East .... 21 

Peach-Blossom 24 

The Imp of Spring-Time ... 28 

Youth 30 

Song 31 

Proposal 32 

Autumnal Dreams 33 

The Return of Spring .... 36 

Song 38 

LYRICS FROM PRINCE DEUKALION. 

Nymphs 41 

Euterpe, Thalia, and Terpsi- 
chore 44 



IV CONTENTS. 

Eros 45 

Spirit of the Wind 48 

Spirit of the Snow 49 

Spirit of the Stream .... 50 

Shepherd 52 

Shepherdess 53 

Spirits of Dawn 54 



MELODIES OF VERSE. 



IMPROVISATIONS. 

A GRASS-BLADE is my warlike lance, 

A rose-leaf is my shield ; 
Beams of the sun are, every one, 

My chargers for the field. 

The morning gives me golden steeds, 
The moon gives silver-white ; 

The stars drop down, my helm to 
crown. 
When I go forth to fight. 

Against me ride in iron mail 

The squadrons of the foe : 
The bucklers flash, the maces crash, 

The haughty trumpets blow. 

One touch, and all, with armor cleft, 
Before me turn and yield. 



6 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Straight on I ride : the world is wide ; 
A rose-leaf is my shield ! 

Then dances o'er the waterfall 

The rainbow, in its glee ; 
The daisy sings, the lily rings 

Her bells of victory. 

So am I armed where'er I go, 
And mounted night or day : 

Who shall oppose the conquering rose, 
And who the sunbeam slay ? 

-I- 

The star o' the morn is whitest, 
The bosom of dawn is brightest ; 

The dew is sown, 

And the blossom blown 
Wherein thou, my Dear, delightest. 

Hark, I have risen before thee, 

That the spell of the day be o'er thee ; 

That the flush of my love 

May fall from above, 
And, mixed with the morn, adore thee. 



IMPRO VISA TIONS. \ 

Dark dreams must now forsake thee, 
And the bhss of thy being take thee ! 

Let the beauty of morn 

In thine eyes be born, 
And the thought of me awake thee ! 

Come forth to hear thy praises, 
Which the wakening world upraises ; 
Let thy hair be spun 
With the gold o' the sun, 
And thy feet be kissed by the daisies ! 

Though thy constant love I share, 

Yet its gift is rarer ; 
In my youth I thought thee fair ; 

Thou art older and fairer ! 

Full of more than young delight 
Now day and night are ; 

For the presence, then so bright, 
Is closer, brighter. 

In the haste of youth we miss 
Its best of blisses ; 



8 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Sweeter than the stolen kiss 
Are the granted kisses. 

Dearer than the words that hide 

The love abiding, 
Are the words that fondly chide, 

When love needs chiding. 

Higher than the perfect song 
For which love longeth, 

Is the tender fear of wrong, 
That never wrongeth. 

She whom youth alone makes dear 
May awhile seem nearer : 

Thou art mine so many a year, 
The older, the dearer ! 

-^ 

What if we lose the seasons 

That seem of our happiest choice, 

That Life is fuller of reasons 
To sorrow than rejoice, 

That Time is richer in treasons, 
And Hope has a faltering voice .-* 



IMPRO VISA TIONS. g 

The dreams wherewith we were dowered 
Were gifts of an ignorant brain ; 

The truth has at last overpowered 
The visions we clung to in vain : 

But who would resist, as a coward, 
The knowledge that cometh from 
pain ? 

For the love, as a flower of the meadow. 
The love that stands firm as a tree — 

For the stars that have vanished in 
shadow, 
The daylight, enduring and free — 

For a dream of the dim Eldorado, 
A world to inhabit have we ! 

Heart, in my bosom beating 
Fierce as a power at bay ! 
Ever thy rote repeating 
Louder, and then retreating, 
Who shall thy being sway ? 

Over my will and under. 
Equally king and slave. 



10 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Sometimes I hear thee thunder, 
Sometimes falter and blunder 
Close to the waiting grave ! 

Oft, in the beautiful season, 
Restless thou art, and wild ; 
Oft, with never a reason, 
Turnest and doest me treason. 
Treating the man as a child ! 

Cold, when passion is burning. 
Quick, when I sigh for rest, 
Kindler of perished yearning, 
Curb and government spurning, 
Thou art lord of the breast ! 

Near in the forest 
I know a glade ; 

Under the tree-tops 
A secret shade ! 

Vines are the curtains, 
Blossoms the floor ; 

Voices of waters 
Sing evermore. 



IMPRO VISA TIONS. 1 1 

There, when the sunset's 

Lances of gold 
Pierce, or the moonlight 

Is silvery cold, 

Would that an angel 

Led thee to me — 
So, out of loneliness 

Love should be ! 

Never the breezes 

Should lisp what we say, 

Never the waters 
Our secret betray ! 

Silence and shadow, 
After, might reign ; 

But the old life be ours 
Never again ! 

-^ 

Through the lonely halls of the night 

My fancies fly to thee : 
Through the lonely halls of the night. 

Alone, I crv to thee. 



12 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

For the stars bring presages 
Of love, and of love's delight : 

Let them bear my messages 
Through the lonely halls of the night ! 

In the golden porch of the morn 

Thou com'st anew to me : 
In the golden porch of the morn, 

Say, art thou true to me ? 

If dreams have shaken thee 
With the call thou canst not scorn. 

Let Love awaken thee 
In the golden porch of the morn ! 

-^ 

Come to me, Lalage ! 

Girl of the flying feet. 

Girl of the tossing hair 

And the red mouth, small and sweet, 

Less of the earth than air, 

So witchingly fond and fair, 

Lalage ! 

Touch me, Lalage ! 

Girl of the soft white hand. 



IMPRO VISA TIONS. 1 3 

Girl of the low white brow 
And the roseate bosom band ; 
Bloom from an orchard bough 
Less downy-soft than thou, 
Lalage ! 

Kiss me, Lalage ! 

Girl of the fragrant breath. 

Girl of the sun of May ; 

As a bird that flutters in death, 

My fluttering pulses say : 

If thou be Death, yet stay, 

Lalage ! 



ASSYRIAN NIGHT-SONG. 



There is naught, on either hand, 
But the moon upon the sand. 
Pale and glimmering, far and dim, 
To the Desert's utmost rim, 
Flows the inundating light 
Over all the lands of Night. 
Bel, the burning lord, has fled ; 
In her blue, uncurtained bed, 
Ishtar, bending from above, 
Seeks her Babylonian love. 
Silver-browed, forever fair, 
Goddess of the dusky hair 
And the jewel-sprinkled breast, 
Give me love, or give me rest ! 

II. 

I have wandered lone and far 
As the ship of Izdubar, 
When the gathered waters rose 
High on Nizir's mountain snows, 



ASSYRIAN NIGHT-SONG. 1 5 

Drifting where the torrent sped 
Over hfe and glory dead. 
Hear me now ! I stretch my hands 
From the moon-sea of the sands 
Unto thee, or any star 
That was guide to Izdubar ! 
Where the bulls with kingly heads 
Guard the way to palace-beds, 
Once I saw a woman go, 
Swift as air and soft as snow, 
Making swan and cypress one. 
Steel and honey, night and sun, — 
Once of death I knew the sting : 
Beauty queen — and I not king ! 

III. 

Where the Hanging Gardens soar 
Over the Euphrates' shore, 
And from palm and clinging vine 
Lift aloft the Median pine, 
Torches flame and wine is poured. 
And the child of Bel is lord ! 
I am here alone with thee, 
Ishtar, daughter of the Sea, 
Who of woven dew and air 
Spread'st an ocean, phantom-fair, 



1 6 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

With a slow pulse beating through 
Wave of air and foam of dew. 
As I stand, I seem to drift 
With its noiseless fall and lift, 
While a veil of lightest lawn, 
Or a floating form withdrawn, 
Or a glimpse of beckoning hands 
Gleams and fades above the sands. 

IV. 

Day, that mixed my soul with men, 

Has it died forever, then ? 

Is there any world but this ? 

If the god deny his bliss. 

And the goddess cannot give. 

What are gods, that men should live ? 

Lo ! the sand beneath my feet 

Hoards the bounty of its heat, 

And thy silver cheeks I see 

Bright with him who burns for thee. 

Give the airy semblance form. 

Bid the dream be near and warm ; 

Or, if dreams but flash and die 

As a mock to heart and eye. 

Then descend thyself, and be, 

Ishtar, sacred bride to me ! 



, CAMADEVA. 

fHE sun, the moon, the mystic planets 

' seven, 

Shone with a purer and serener flame, 

i.nd there was joy on Earth and joy in 

Heaven 

When Camadeva came. 

The blossoms burst, like jewels of the 
air. 
Putting the colors of the morn to 
shame ; 
breathing their odorous secrets every- 
where 

When Camadeva came. 

The birds, upon the tufted tamarind 
! spray. 

Sat side by side and cooed in amor- 
ous blame ; 
The lion sheathed his claws and left his 
prey 

When Camadeva came. 



1 8 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

The sea slept, pillowed on the happy- 
shore ; 
The mountain-peaks were bathed in 
rosy flame ; 
The clouds went down the sky, — to 
mount no more 

When Camadeva came. 

The hearts of all men brightened like 
the morn ; 
The poet's harp then first deserved its 
fame, 
For rapture sweeter than he sang was 
born 

When Camadeva came. 

All breathing life a newer spirit quaffed, 
A second Hfe, a bliss beyond a name, 
And Death, half-conquered, dropped his 
idle shaft 

When Camadeva came. 



BEDOUIN SONG. 

From the Desert I come to thee 

On a stallion shod with fire ; 
And the winds are left behind 

In the speed of my desire. 
Under thy window I stand, 

And the midnight hears my cry : 
I love thee, I love but thee, 
With a love that shall not die 
Till the sun grows cold, 
And the stars are old. 
And the leaves of the Judgment 
Book unfold ! 

Look from thy window and see 

My passion and my pain ; 
I lie on the sands below, 

And I faint in thy disdain. 
Let the night-winds touch thy brow 

With the heat of my burning sigh, 
And melt thee to hear the vow 

Of a love that shall not die 



20 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Till the sun grows cold^ 
And the stars are old, 
And the leaves of the Judgment 
Book unfold I 

My steps are nightly driven, 
By the fever in my breast, 
To hear from thy lattice breathed 

The word that shall give me rest. 
Open the door of thy heart, 

And open thy chamber door, 
And my kisses shall teach thy lips 
The love that shall fade no more 
Till the sun grows cold, 
And the stars are old, 
And the leaves of the Judgment 
Book tmfoldl 



THE POET IN THE EAST. 

The Poet came to the Land of the 
East, 
When spring was in the air : 
The Earth was dressed for a wedding 
feast, 
So young she seemed, and fair; 
And the Poet knew the Land of the 
East, — 
His soul was native there. 

All things to him were the visible forms 
Of early and precious dreams, — 

Familiar visions that mocked his quest 
Beside the Western streams, 

Or gleamed in the gold of the clouds, 
unrolled 
In the sunset's dying beams. 

He looked above in the cloudless calm, 
And the Sun sat on his throne ; 

The breath of gardens, deep in balm, 
Was all about him blown, 



22 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

And a brother to him was the princely 
Palm, 
For he cannot live alone. 

His feet went forth on the myrtled hills, 
And the flowers their welcome shed ; 

The meads of milk-white asphodel 
They knew the Poet's tread, 

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, 
The poppy's bonfire spread. 

And, half in shade and half in sun, 

The Rose sat in her bower, 
With a passionate thrill in her crimson 
heart — 

She had waited for the hour ! 
And, like a bride's, the Poet kissed 

The lips of the glorious flower. 

Then the Nightingale, who sat above 
In the boughs of the citron-tree, 

Sang : We are no rivals, brother mine. 
Except in minstrelsy ; 

For the rose you kissed with the kiss of 
love, 
She is faithful still to me. 



THE POET IN THE EAST. 23 

And further sang the Nightingale : 
Your bower not distant Ues. 

I heard the sound of a Persian lute 
From the jasmined window rise, 

And, twin-bright stars, through the lat- 
tice-bars, 
I saw the Sultana's eyes. 

The Poet said : I will here abide, 
In the Sun's unclouded door ; 

Here are the wells of all delight 
On the lost Arcadian shore : 

Here is the light on sea and land. 
And the dream deceives no more. 



PEACH-BLOSSOM. 

I. 

Nightly the hoar-frost freezes 
The young grass of the field, 

Nor yet have blander breezes 
The buds of the oak unsealed ; 

Nor yet pours out the pine 

His airy resinous wine, 

But over the southern slope, 

In the heat and hurry of hope, 

The wands of the peach-tree first 

Into rosy beauty burst ! 

A breath, and the sweet buds ope ! 

A day, and the orchards bare. 

Like maids in haste to be fair, 

Lightly themselves adorn 

With a scarf the Spring at the door 

Has sportively flung before, 

Or a stranded cloud of the morn ! 

II. 

What spirit of Persia cometh 
And saith to the buds, ^'Unclose ! " 



PEA CH-BL OSSOM. 2 5 

Ere ever the first bee hummeth, 

Or woodland wild flower blows ? 
What prescient soul in the sod 
Garlands each barren rod 
With fringes of bloom that speak 
Of the baby's tender breast, 
And the boy's pure hp unpressed, 
And the pink of the maiden's cheek ? 
The swift, keen Orient so 
Prophesies as of old, 
While the apple's blood is cold, 
Remembering the snow. 

III. 

Afar, through the mellow hazes 

Where the dreams of June are stayed, 

The hills, in their vanishing mazes, 
Carry the flush, and fade ! 

Southward they fall, and reach 

To the bay and the ocean beach, 

Where the soft, half- Syrian air 

Blows from the Chesapeake's 

Inlets and coves and creeks 

On the fields of Delaware ! 

And the rosy lakes of flowers. 

That here alon^ are ours. 



26 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Spread into seas that pour 
Billow and spray of pink 
Even to the blue wave's brink, 
All down the Eastern Shore ! 

IV. 

Pain, Doubt, and Death are over ! 

Who thinks, to-day, of toil ? 
The fields are certain of clover. 

The gardens of wine and oil. 
What though the sap of the North 
Drowsily peereth forth 
In the orchards, and still delays ? 
The peach and the poet know 
Under the chill the glow. 
And the token of golden days ! 

V. 

What fool, to-day, would rather 
In wintry memories dwell ? 

What miser reach to gather 

The fruit these boughs foretell ? 

No, no ! — the heart has room 

For present joy alone. 

Light shed and sweetness blown, 

For odor and color and bloom ! 



PEA CH-BL OSSOM. 2 J 

As the earth in the shining sky, 
Our lives in their own bhss lie ; 
Whatever is taught or told, 
However men moan and sigh, 
Love never shall grow cold. 
And Life shall never die ! 



THE IMP OF SPRING-TIME. 

Over the eaves where the sunbeams fall 

Twitters the swallow ; 
I hear from the mountains the cataract 
call: 

Follow, oh, follow ! 

Buds on the bushes and blooms on the 
mead 
Swiftly are swelling; 
Hark ! the Spring whispereth : " Make 
ye with speed 
Ready my dwelHng." 

Out of the tremulous blue of the air 

Calling before her, 
Who was it bade me " Awake and pre- 
pare, 

Thou mine adorer ! " 

" Leave me," I said ; " I have known 
thee of old. 
Love the annoyer, 



THE IMP OF SPRING-TIME. 29 

Arming, at last, with thine arrows of 
gold, 
Time, the Destroyer." 

" Follow," he laughed, " where the bliss 
of the earth 
Wooes thee, compelling; 
Yet in the Spring, and her thousand-fold 
birth, 
I, too, am dwelling." 

Out of the buds he was peeping, and 
sang 
Soft with the swallow ; 
Yea, and he called where the cataract 
sprang : 
Follow, oh, follow ! 

Vain to defy, or evade, or, in sooth, 

Bid him to leave me ! 
But his deception is dearer than truth : 

Let him deceive me ! 



YOUTH. 

Child with the butterfly, 
Boy with the ball, 

Youth witli the maiden — 
Still I am all. 

Wisdom of manhood 
Keeps the old joy; 

Conquered illusions 
Leave me a boy. 

Falsehood and baseness 
Teach me but this : 

Earth still is beautiful, 
Being is bliss. 

Locks to my temples 
Hoary may cling ; 

'T is but as daisies 

On meadows of spring. 



SONG. 

I PLUCKED for thee the wilding rose 

And wore it on my breast, 
And there, till daylight's dusky close, 

Its silken cheek was pressed ; 
Its desert breath was sweeter far 

Than palace-rose could be, 
Sweeter than all Earth's blossoms are, 

But that thou gav'st to me. 

I kissed its leaves, in fond despite 

Of lips that failed my own, 
And Love recalled that sacred night 

His blushing flower was blown. 
I vowed, no rose should rival mine. 

Though withered now, and pale, 
Till those are plucked, whose white 
buds twine 

Above thy bridal veil. 



PROPOSAL. 

The violet loves a sunny bank, 
The cowslip loves the lea ; 

The scarlet creeper loves the elm, 
But I love — thee. 

The sunshine kisses mount and vale. 
The stars, they kiss the sea ; 

The west winds kiss the clover bloom. 
But I kiss — thee ! 

The oriole weds his mottled mate, 
The lily 's bride o' the bee ; 

Heaven's marriage-ring is round the 
earth — 
Shall I wed thee ? 



AUTUMNAL DREAMS. 



When the maple turns to crimson 
And the sassafras to gold ; 

When the gentian 's in the meadow, 
And the aster on the wold ; 

When the noon is lapped in vapor, 
And the night is frosty-cold : 

II. 

When tne chestnut-burs are opened, 
And the acorns drop like hail, 

And the drowsy air is startled 
With the thumping of the flail, — 
^ With the drumming of the partridge 
And the whistle of the quail : 

ir V ni. 

Through the rustling woods I wander, 
Through the jewels of the year. 

From the yellow uplands calling. 
Seeking her that still is dear : 



34 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

She is near me in the autumn, 
is near. 

IV. 

Through the smoke of burning summer, 
When the weary winds are still, 

I can see her in the valley, 
I can hear her on the hill, — 

In the splendor of the woodlands, 
In the whisper of the rill. 

V. 

For the shores of Earth and Heaven 
Meet, and mingle in the blue : 

She can wander down the glory 
To the places that she knew, 

Where the happy lovers wandered 
In the days when life was true. 

VI. 

: So I think, when days are sweetest, 
And the world is wholly fair, 

' She may sometime steal upon me 
Through the dimness of the ^, 
With the cross upon her bosom 
And the amaranth in her hair. 



AUTUMNAL DREAMS. 35 

VII. 

Once to meet her, ah ! to meet her, 

And to hold her gently fast 
Till I blessed her, till she blessed me, — 

That were happiness, at last : 
That were bliss beyond our meetings 

In the autumns of the Past ! 



THE RETURN OF SPRING. 

Have I passed through Death's uncon- 
scious birth, 

In a dream the midnight bare ? 
I look on another and fairer Earth ; 

I breathe a wondrous air ! 

A spirit of beauty walks the hills, 

A spirit of love the plain ; 
The shadows are bright, and the sun- 
shine fills 

The air with a diamond rain ! 

Before my vision the glories swim, 
To the dance of a tune unheard : 

Is an angel singing where woods are 
dim, 
Or is it an amorous bird ? 

Is it a spike of azure flowers. 

Deep in the meadows seen, 
Or is it the peacock's neck, that towers 

Out of the spangled green ? 



THE RETURN OF SPRING. 37 

Is a white dove glancing across the 
blue, 
Or an opal taking wing ? 
For my soul is dazzled through and 
through, 
With the splendor of the Spring. 

Is it she that shines, as never before, 
The tremulous hills above, — 

Or the heart within me, awake once 
more 
To the dawning light of love ? 



SONG. 

From the bosom of ocean I seek thee, 

Thou lamp of my spirit afar, 
As the seaman, adrift in the darkness, 

Looks up for the beam of his star ; 
And when on the moon-lighted water 

The spirits of solitude sleep. 
My soul, in the light of thy beauty. 

Lies hushed as the waves of the deep. 

As the shafts of the sunrise are broken 

Far over the glittering sea, 
Thou hast dawned on the waves of my 
dreaming. 
And each thought has a sparkle of 
thee. 
And though with the white sail dis- 
tended, 
I speed from the vanishing shore. 
Thou wilt give to the silence of ocean 
The spell of thy beauty the more. 



LYRICS 



PRINCE DEUKALION. 



NYMPHS. 

Lift from the rivers 
Your silver sandals, 
From mists of the mountains 
Your floating veils ! — 
From musky vineyard, 
And copse of laurel. 
The ears that listened 
For lovers' tales ! 
Let olives ripen 
And die, untended ; 
Leave oak and poplar, 
And homeless pine ! 
Take shell and trumpet 
From swell of surges. 
And feet that glisten 
From restful brine ! 
As the bee when twilight 
Has closed the bell, — 
As love from the bosom 
When doubts compel, 
We go : farewell 1 



42 MELODIES OF VERSE. 
***** 
{At a distance.) 

As the night-air pants ; 
As the wind-harp chants ; 
As the moonlight falls 
Over foliage walls ; 
As gleams forerun 
The smile of the sun 
When clouds are parting, 
Our beings are. 
We are held afar 
By a knowledge burning 
In the heart of yearning ; 
For the necromancy 
Of the fonder fancy 
Breathes back into air 
The Presences fair 
It would fain restore ; 
We are Souls and Voices, 
But Forms no more ! 

In the upward pulse of the fountain ; 
On the sunny flanks of the mountain ; 
Where the bubble and slide of the rill 
Is heard when the thickets are still ; 



NYMPHS. 43 

Where the light, with a flickering mo- 
tion, 
From the last faint fringes of ocean 
Is sprinkled on sand and shell ; 
In the ferns of the bowery dell. 
And the gloom of the pine-wood dark. 
And the dew-cloud that hides the lark, 
The sense of Beauty shall feel us, 
The touch of delisfht reveal us ! 



EUTERPE, THALIA, AND TERP- 
SICHORE. 

In the woods and highlands 

We linger near ; 
By the shores and islands, 

When skies are clear. 
Delight of existence, 

In the feet that fly, 
Calls from the distance 

Our glad reply ; 
But the joys are sweeter 

That to all belong. 
When the foot gives the metre, 

The heart the song ! 
No more you banish 

Than a cloud the sun : 
We only vanish 

To be re-won ! 



EROS. 
(to g^a.) 

Not yet am I barred in Hades, 

Though a word unknown hath hurled 
The Olympian lords and ladies 

To wail in the nether world ! 
Let Proteus shift in ocean 

From shape to shape that eludes : 
I am one, as the heart's devotion, 

Yet many, as lovers' moods ! 

Was I born that I should die ? 
Stars that fringe the outer sky 
Know me : yonder sun were dim, 
Save my torch enkindled him. 
Then, when first the primal pair 
Found me in the twilight air, 
I was older than thy day. 
Yet to them as young as they. 
All decrees of Fate I spurn ; 
Banishment is my return ; 



46 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Hate and Force purvey for me, 
Death is shining victory ! 
***** 
With the Wind desires and motions 

The innocent child that guide ; 
With girlhood's shy avoidance 

And boyhood's bashful pride ; 
With the arts that are simplest nature, 

And the nature that hides in art, 
When the voice and the cheeks bear 
witness, 

And the eye confesses the heart ; 
With the fond mistrust, and the frenzy, 

That falters, or sweeps above, 
When the key to delight in beauty 

Is held by the hands of love ; 
With the lore of the world's renewal 

In seed or in guarded bud ; 
With the plunge of the sportive dolphin. 

And the heat of the panther's blood, — 
The spells of my sway are woven, 

The flame of my being fed, 
And I breathe in a bright existence, 

Though the eldest Gods are dead ! 
For Love, in the ashes of Empire 

And the dust of Faith, is born ; 



EROS. 47 

And the rose of a kiss shall blossom, 
When blight has withered the corn ! 

Nor the soul of the wandering odor, nor 
the light of the mist, is thine. 

Who art rolled through day and dark- 
ness, at the will of a star divine ; 

Who claim'st the arrows of beauty, 
alone from its quiver sped, — 

Thou readest but half the riddle in the 
dust that else were dead ! 

Thy life is blown upon thee, as a seed 
from another land. 

And the soil, and the dew and water, 
are the bounty of thy hand ; 

But the secrets of whence and whither 
are mine for my children's need : 

I go with the flying blossom, as I came 
with the flying seed ! 



SPIRIT OF THE WIND. 

From the parched Numidian waste, 

From the hills of hot Fezzkn, 
I sprang with a boundless haste 

That only the stars outran ; 
Over mountain and Midland Sea 

That strove to tire or tame, — 
Over Etna and Stromboli 

That pierced me with smoke and 
flame ; 
Till I laid, in the first desire 

That bended my pinions low. 
The cheek of the sylph of fire 

On the breast of the gnome of snow ! 
For the powers of ruin, that meet 

In the vaults of space, must die 
When the spirit that stays my feet 

Is lord of the tender sky ! 
I come, to wither and slay ; 

I pause, to quicken and spare ; 
And the fate of the world I weigh 

In the trembling balance of air ! 



SPIRIT OF THE SNOW. 

Homeless atoms, born in the sky, 
Cling to the ledges bleak and high, 
Fill the crevice and hide the scar, 
And give the sunrise a rosy star ! — 
Gather and grow, till a shield is won 
To blunt the spear of the angry sun ; 
Till from the heart of my chill repose 
Power awakens and purpose grows, — 
Out of my torpor the glacier goes ! 
Silent, certain, it crouches and crawls 
Down the gorges in frozen falls, 
And crystal turrets of azure walls, 
Tearing the granite from crest and 

dome. 
Hurling the torrent forth in foam ! 
Shepherding here my downy flock, 
There I shatter the ribs of rock ; 
Stayed by a hand and slain by a breath. 
There I am terror, and doom, and 
V.^ death! 

4 



SPIRIT OF THE STREAM. 

Over the mosses and grasses 

The white cloud passes, 
Silent and soft as a dream : 
And the Earth, in her shy embraces, 

Conceals the traces 
Of the secret birth of the Stream ; 
Till my threads are braided and woven. 

And speed through the cloven 
Channels, and gather, and sink, 
And wind, and sparkle, and dally. 

With song in the valley. 
And shout from the terrible brink ! 
Then the whirl of the wind divides me, 

And the rainbow hides me, 
As I midway scatter in air ; 
And I bathe with endless showers 

The feet of the flowers, 
And the locks of the forest's hair : 
Till proudly, with waters wedded, 

My strength is bedded 



SPIRIT OF THE STREAM. 5 I 

By meadow, and slope, and lea ; 
And the lands at last deliver 

Their tribute river 
To the universal Sea ! 



SHEPHERD. 
{Singing above.) 

Where the arch of the rock is bended. 

Warm, and hid from the dew, 
Slumber the sheep I tended, 

All the sweet night through. 
Never a wolf affrights them 

Here, in the pasture's peace, 
But the tender grass delights them, 

And the shadows cool their fleece. 
I blow, as a downy feather, 

The sleep on my eyelids laid. 
And rise in the twilight weather. 

Between the glow and the shade. 
Too blest the hour has made me 

For a speech the tongue may know, 
But my happy flute shall aid me, 

And speak to my love below. 



SHEPHERDESS. 

{Singing in the valley^ 

Uncover the embers ! 
With pine-cone and myrtle 
My breath shall enkindle 

The sacred Fire ! 
Arise through the stillness 
My shepherd's blue signal, 
And bear to his mountain 

The valley's desire ! 
The olive-tree bendeth ; 
The grapes gather purple ; 
The garden in sunshine 

Is ripe to the core : 
Then smile as thou sleepest, 
His fruit and my blossom ; 
There 's peace in the chamber, 

And song at the door ! 



SPIRITS OF DAWN. 

Hark ! has the Sun-god's Hour 
Smitten her cymbals, dreaming him 

nigh? 
We are called by a sound, and sped by 
a power. 
To break the sleep of the sky ! 
iEolian echoes blow 
From the fourfold realms of the air, 
And a torch, not ours, with a mightier 
glow 
Burns where the East is bare. 
We hasten, we scatter the cloud, 
We quench the beam of the great white 
star ; 
But the paean is over-loud, 
And the splendor comes from afar ! 
It flushes our halls of rest, 
As the sun were a rose in hue, 



SPIRITS OF DAWN. 55 

And it paints the Earth as she bares her 
breast 
To the emptied urns of the dew ! 

\Sound of ^olia7t harps j the face of 
Eos appears^] 



EOS. 

Is this mine Earth ? 
The many - headlanded, the temple- 
crowned, 
Which the great purple sea so whispered 
round, 
When earlier Gods had birth ? 
Mine Earth, I loved so well, 
Rejoiced in, as it welcomed me. 
And fed with unexhausted hydromel, 
While the young race was free ! 
I know its curving strands. 
Its dimpling hollows, bosom - budding 

hills ; 
I scent large fragrance of the life that 
fills 
The joined or parted lands. 
Old hopes, and sweetest, burn again ; 



56 MELODIES OF VERSE. 

Old words are stammering on my 
tongue : 
Was it your lips that kissed, Immortal 
Twain, 

Or is Tithonus young ? 



MELODIES OF VERSE 



lY 

BAYARD TAYLOR 




BOSTON 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

New York : 11 East Seventeenth Street 

€%t WiiiitxniU ^vt%M, €%mfitiXigt 

1884 



:> P-5. 



II '-^ 



B If ^^i 
1^ 




^^ y^^m:^ \^ J" A 






OOBBS BROS... '^c,'^' 



LIBMAIIV aiNOINO 






< 



-P ST. AUGUSTINE "v>^ 




